


Door

by GreyWolfandMoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Timelines, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: rs_small_gifts, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWolfandMoon/pseuds/GreyWolfandMoon
Summary: Little did Remus Lupin know what doors meant to him - they had revealed Fenrir Greyback, Sirius Black and dead rats flinging at him.For Ami's prompts:1. You'll stay with me?2. I open at the close3. All was wellUpdate: I just learned about the Gift function on AO3. Sorry I didn't tag you before, Ami!





	Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llaeyro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/gifts).



> I'm too embarrassed to reread this meh, but I do want to apologise for the awkward, unrealistic sex I've written. 
> 
> P.S. 'I open at the close' is used figuratively in the sense that the last scene takes place in the same place as the first scene.

It starts and ends with a click of the compartment door. It has always been like this: the surging train, the white steam soaring past the windows, the wide plateau outside. The latch wobbles and clatters against the wooden door, echoing the heartbeats of the eleven-year-old Remus Lupin.

 

He puts a shaking hand on the handle, not quite knowing what to do. The warmth of his parents’ embrace lingers on him, but even this familiar sensation cannot ease his anxiety. _What if_ , he shudders at the thought, _what if I am not like them?_ _What if they know?_ He touches his collarbone where a new scar has grown just two days ago. There is no way his classmates are going to see his scars. No way.

 

So pulling his cloak all over his neck just below his chin and looking like a neckless midget, Remus Lupin pushes open the door.

* * *

 

He never knew why the turning of a door created such twists in his life. Little did young Remus know what ensued the clicking of the garden fence, for all he remembered of that night were blackouts and numbness and crying, and that was the last time he saw the full moon with human eyes.

 

And there was the door to the Shrieking Shack that separated the bloodthirsty wolf from the civilised society outside. Behind the door Remus could shed off any pretense and face his worst fear, which he simultaneous hated and envied – the ferocity, the freedom, the power he never possessed as a human. Inside-Remus and outside-Remus were the two sides of the Mirror of Erised, with his outside self looking in and blocking anyone from seeing the reflection. Except that tonight, he was letting _him_ in.

 

There was pounding on the door and Remus turned from the window. Sirius came in in silence, and Remus kept that. He knew that nothing could persuade Sirius to leave.

 

‘I’ll hold you,’ said Sirius finally. ‘It’s freezing.’

 

Remus trembled. ‘Go…‘

 

‘Sit,’ Sirius ignored him and stepped towards the bed where Remus perched on. The floor creaked ominously, and he wondered how it could withstand a feral wolf every month. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I am not waiting for James and Peter any longer. They’re too slow. The earlier you have companies, the less you suffer, even if it’s just me by your side.’

 

The air where Remus’s hot breath passed through crystalised as he remained rigid. Determination and ruthlessness had resulted in Sirius’s early success in his Animagus transformation, yet both of them knew that it was going to be very risky, with the wolf as volatile as ever and the dog new to the pack. But some words didn’t have to be spoken out loud; Remus nodded and closed his eyes, ready to await his fate.

 

A cloud shifted, showing the soft edge of the moon, announcing the beginning of the full moon.

 

‘– You’ll stay with me?’ Remus asked, his teeth clattering as he fought the pull of the moon. His muscles were rippling, his body was shaking and ready to burst. Despite his effort to curl into a ball, his arms refused to stay folded around his knees, the desire to scratch and claw was fighting a battle with the human control, and winning.

 

Sirius nodded, his eyes eerily dark. He perched on the periphery of the room, the light from his wand tip flickered as he trembled. His other hand hovered around the latch of the door, just in case – in case it didn’t work, in case Remus attacked him. But even then he’d stay, even if not in the form of a black dog, he’d stay at the opening of the Willow until moon set.

 

A hiss escaped Remus, followed by the screams of pain that tore his lungs apart. As the screams slowly became inhuman howls, his vision was no longer dim but night-sensitive as the wolf senses took over.

                              

* * *

 

Sirius held Remus tightly, who was draped only with a tattered robe and nothing underneath. Remus buried his face in Sirius’s chest, tears gushing out and staining Sirius’s robes wet. Blood was seeping through the thin fabric, like blood-red roses blossoming against the snow.  

 

Remus tried to push Sirius away, but his hands were shaking so badly that his effort was futile. ‘Go away,’ he croaked, his voice still raspy from a night’s non-stop howling. ‘I don’t want you to come next time. You saw me turning into a crazy beast… You saw me lose myself.’

 

Sirius tightened the embrace. It was not a pleasant view to watch, with all the bones crushing and breaking and reforming themselves, with that bright amber eyes of his beloved turning into two slits of dangerous yellow light.

 

‘Tell James and Peter,’ Remus’s knuckles whitened. ‘Tell them – to stay away –’

 

‘No, I’ll make them all come,’ Sirius said into the soft brown waves. They tickled his nose. ‘I need them to see how very brave you are, how you fight your other side, how you withstand all that pain. I need them to know that _we_ could ease your pain.’

 

‘But I …’ Remus choked, his face burying into Sirius’s chest even deeper, ‘…I don’t want them to see …I don’t want to witness they day they finally turn back on me – ‘

 

‘Show them you’re a warrior,’ whispered Sirius, his fingers starting to trace the scar tissue that was beginning to form on Remus’s wrist. ‘Show them how much stronger than they think you are, show them the scar, the marks of bravery,’ he slicked Remus’s sweat-soaked hair back, exposing his eyes that were rimmed with tears and red from crying. He pulled Remus’s wrist gently so that it was level with his own lips, ‘that’s one.’

 

And he moved upwards slowly so that he came to the second scar on Remus’s elbow. ‘Two,’ he said, counting only the scars from tonight, which were formed quickly after Remus transformed back and were new and extra-sensitive to his touch. He snaked his hands back to the bony chest and untied the robes, where it slid off and became a pool of black silk around the hips. ‘Three,’ his lips rested on the angry red marks over the collar bone where the initial bite lay and grew with age. He bit softly on it, feeling the rugged tissues with the softness of his tongue. The hands on the back pressed slowly downwards, through the ups and downs of the backbone, sinking onto the butt cheeks that were barely supported by the hip bones. A finger caressed the puckered opening lightly, feeling it contract and relax as adrenaline shot through the muscles.

 

‘Remus,’ Sirius’s voice was hoarse, ‘Remus, show them you’re brave. Show _me_ you’re brave.’ The finger punctured the tight opening, eliciting a moan from the Remus, who was now winding his legs around Sirius and pushing him down onto the bed. His breaths were uneven, the combined result of his previous crying and newfound desire. He clutched at the hem of Sirius’s robes tightly as he panted, the finger in him wriggling within the hot walls. With an upward yank, the robe was peeled off and cast onto the floor.

 

‘S –‘ Remus’s head fell heavily onto the white chest with a soft _thump,_ feeling himself being stretched open as a second finger was added in _._ ‘S- _Sirius_ ,’ he drew in a breath and exhaled abruptly, echoing the rhythm of the finger in and out of him. There were weird, pleasant tingling sensations, first around his hips, then spreading to his groin, then the upper body. Sirius’s other hand closed around his erection, smudging precome and cold lube onto it, and around it.

 

‘Do it,’ said Sirius huskily. ‘I want you to do it with me.’

 

Biting his lips so that he wouldn’t moan every time Sirius’s fingers plunged in, Remus slid himself into Sirius. He hissed as Sirius writhed and arched his back upwards, the debauched fingers still inside him. They exhaled into each other’s mouths, their lips smashing and burning, for neither wanted to let out a loud sound that disturbed the moment of acceptance, desire and release. Sirius was very tight, and hot, and in need, and while his fingers fucked Remus relentlessly, Remus had difficulty catching up with the rhythm.

 

‘Faster, Remus,’ Sirius growled, pushing his fingers into Remus so hard that he pushed Remus’s entire body fowards, and in turn pushing him ball-deep into himself. ‘I need you as much as – _ow_ – you…me –’

 

Finally, when a spasm ran through Remus whole body and all his bones disappeared at once, he groaned against the crook of Sirius’s neck, feeling a splash of warmth spilling over his stomach. Like an infant, he clung onto Sirius as if that was that his only support in the whole world.

 

Sirius pulled out his hand, trailing it along the cleft of the cheeks and up the spine. At last, he said, as a conclusion of a night’s exploration, ‘and that’s a total of seven scars tonight.’

 

Remus was still breathing heavily. ‘Seven marks of my… otherness.’

 

‘I say,’ the corner of Sirius’s mouth twitched, his hand now tangled in Remus’s hair, ‘that’s seven marks of my love to you.’

                   

* * *

 

He regrets not peeking into the compartment to see if it is already occupied. The moment he opens the door, a boy with hair the colour of black wood turns and frowns.

 

‘Didn’t you know you should knock before you enter?’ His stare is cold through the sky-grey pupils. Though bathed in warm sunlight, Remus can see the boiling storm inside him, ready to explode any second.

 

 _Silence is the best weapon_ , Lyall Lupin’s voice rang in his ears. _If they pry, say nothing._ Being a good kid as he is, Remus takes his father’s advice with great seriousness. Pursing his lips together, he pulls his cloak further up until it reaches his nose.

 

‘I’m talking to you,’ the boy’s eyebrows slant as his eyes narrow. ‘And you haven’t even asked if you could come in yet.’ He indicates the compartment door with an accusing glare.

 

Remus shrinks further into the cloak, his back curling like a cat’s. Close human contact with the others except his parents has basically been cut off since he was six, and throughout the course of age six to eleven, he has anticipated many different forms of rejection, this being one of them, being told to piss off. He’s told himself not to take rejections to heart, and that he is prepared to face many more, but it doesn’t mean that he is not hurt even if the rejection (he assumes it is) is not said out loud. Stealing a glance at the other boy, he thinks better of introducing himself and takes out _Hogwarts: a History_ from his satchel.

 

‘What a rude nerd,’ the black-haired boy sneers, ‘as if I haven’t had enough from the crazy bitch.’ He jumps off the couch, picks up his leather suitcase and slams the door shut, leaving Remus alone in the compartment.

 

He pulls down the cloak slowly and exhales. The window fogs up.

                           

* * *

 

The summer of 1994 was a turning point for Remus. Not so much a turning point as in things went from bad to good, but one in which things seemed even worse than before. Somehow, twelve years of solitude had made Remus uncomfortable with having someone, someone he was once so closed with around. He felt like he was being see-through, all his thoughts were unhidden from Sirius, ironically, the most mentally unstable person in Grimmauld Place.

 

He rarely saw him in the day. Most of the time Sirius was in his own room with Buckbeak and refused to interact with anyone else. But when Molly got so fed up with Sirius that she practically ordered Remus to bring him his dinner, the only person whom she thought was capable of convincing the cranky man, Remus had no choice but to knock on the door for the first time since he moved in.

 

‘Piss off,’ the door remained closed. ‘I am not hungry.’

 

‘You haven’t…’ Remus started. He was still relearning the feeling of not living alone. ‘I mean, it’s me.’

 

‘Who? I don’t bloody care, just piss off.’ Sirius sounded even more annoyed, although Remus wasn’t entirely sure if he did recognise him. Something hit the door, startling Remus and he dropped his hand from the doorknob.

 

‘I –‘ the sensation of rejection came rushing back, and Remus was not unfamiliar with it. But then he thought of his eleven-year-old self, with all that boldness and youthfulness, pushing open the compartment door, he thought maybe, just _maybe_ , he could recreate that again.

 

‘I said _fuck off_!’ Sirius’s scream pierced his ears. Before he even blinked, a giant dead rat flew across the bedroom and collided head-on with him.

 

‘S-Sirius,’ he kicked away the rat, heart pounding, ‘I brought –‘

 

Sirius’s face contorted. ‘ _Who do you think you are? Fuck off!_ ’

 

‘ – I cooked it,’ Remus said, changing his sentence midway.

 

If he thought this would make things better, he was wrong. Sirius pursed his lips and stood up next to Buckbeak. Without a word, he snatched the plate from Remus and flung it to the floor. The sounds of broken ceramic echoed in the room, a small drop of blood dripped down from Remus’s inner wrist as the sharp edges of the plate slit his veins.

 

Sirius hovered around the broken pieces, but his eyes were dead and unblinking, as if nothing had just happened.

 

‘It’s alright,’ said Remus softly. He stooped, picking up the pieces by his bare hands, not feeling the slightest pain even when more wounds opened his skin. ‘You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,’ his voice was most calm and soft, like the one he used when rocking baby Harry, but his hands were shaking and closing hard around the broken pieces. _Drip, drip,_ blood leaked between whitened knuckles like ends of a waterfall between rocks.

 

Sirius made a move to take out his wand, but Remus turned and slammed the door shut without looking back. His heart was thrumming against his ribcage. Whether he was scared or angry or whatever he did not know. He jumped when he nearly collided with Tonks, who judging by her crouching position had followed Remus up and waited outside room the whole time.

 

‘How was it?’ She lit up instantly, oblivious to the violence inside. ‘Any progress?’

 

‘All was well,’ he hid his hands behind him and smiled.                     

         

* * *

 

Remus Lupin stands just outside the compartment, his hand, once again, rests on the cold iron latch of the door. He has been in this position many times before, but yet again he hesitates. He is uncertain as to what awaits him. He is scared.

 

Behind him, the window in the narrow corridor slides open, and wind, sharp like the edges of knives, grazes his scalp where his hair is thin, making his old bones clatter against each other as he shivers. Instinctively, he pulls up his cloak and opens the door.

 

‘Didn’t you know you should lock before you –‘ someone is already in there, shaggy hair pulled into a pony tail and his shirt collar open. Sirius Black sits on the couch, a bottle of firewhiskey rolling between his hands, looking not a day over sixteen. He gasps at the opening of the compartment door, the bottle dropping to the floor as his hands shoot up to cover his mouth.

 

‘Moony!’

 

Remus never knew that a word with just two syllables can carry so much weight. He just stands there, rooted to the spot, as if the whole universe has stopped and they are all that is left.

 

‘I wasn’t expecting…’ says Sirius slowly, taking in Remus’s state. Grey-haired, wrinkled, battered and worn-out. Remus pulls his cloak higher, hoping it would conceal his broken body.

 

‘Oi, I am talking to you,’ Sirius recovers first, his face flickering between shock, sadness and mirth. He extends a hand and pulls Remus towards him. Instantly, Remus stumbles into the compartment, and there comes a weird sensation of temporary suffocation, like he is going through a screen of vacuum. He feels lighter and taller; and when he sees his reflection on the glass, he lets out a trembling squeak.

 

‘You rude nerd,’ Sirius buries his hands in Remus’s brown curls, now as soft and slick as they have once been, ‘what’s so good about the bloody cloak that you pull it up every time you see me?’

 

Panting slightly due to giddiness, Remus brings it over his head and pulls it down Sirius's shoulders so that the black cloak envelopes them both, and just them. He puts his hands around Sirius and takes a deep breath, taking in that unique scent that had been gone from him for first twelve years and then another two years.  

 

‘Where does this take us?’ whispers Remus. He has a vague knowledge of what is happening, but he can’t exactly tell. When he tries to recall what has just happened before he came, there seems to be a glass door blocking his thoughts. Still, he cannot shake off the feeling that he is missing something important.

 

‘On,’ replies Sirius. He leans closer so that his lips are touching Remus’s. His hands that are still in Remus’s hair push him slightly so that his head is turned aside. ‘Don’t worry. Look.’

 

Remus peeks from the slit between the buttons of his cloak and gasps. He is surprised to see that he and Sirius are no longer alone – the compartment seems to have expanded itself a few times, and a crowd has gathered around them unannounced. Leaning by the door is James, his glasses askew as he ruffles his hair; his arm is wound around Lily, who wears her hair braided the way she did it in seventh year. When Remus catches a fifteen-year-old Regulus behind James, Regulus smiles shyly and blushes a little. And then there is Colin Creevey, a camera in his hand, who is waving at them madly with a shining grin; on the other side of the compartment, Fred Weasley throws them a wink and bows, the thread of Extendable Ear sticking out showing that he is not as innocent as he seems.

 

‘Look, Daddy!’ a little girl giggles, and Remus turns to catch a whip of pink hair on the couch. ‘Someone’s playing hide-and-seek!’ She is very tiny, her head barely reaches the latch of the window, and her Hufflepuff uniform billows in the wind.

 

Understanding dawns on Remus as Ted Tonks clutches little Nymphadora’s hand and waves at them – they all stay at when they were happiest. He smiles back at them, and all of the sudden, the memories of the war, the Battle, the husband and wife, the green light that sent both of them here all come back to him. And while he is glad to see Tonks happy again, a wave of nostalgia for that vivacious young woman runs over him, and the cry of baby she held tugs at the back of his mind. These emotions are complicated, a mixture of loss, longing, joy and relief; just that they are very, very far away, like the reflection of moonlight on water.

 

A jolt of the train sends Remus tumbling backwards onto the floor, signaling its departure from Platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross Station. _Of course_ , Remus thinks, _this is where all it started._ He isn’t surprised to see there are people waving at the train – Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, even _Peter_ at the very back.

 

‘You’ll stay with me?’ asked Remus, looking up and staring into the sea of greyness that he has longed for his entire life.

 

Sirius pulls him to his feet and into an embrace. ‘For the rest of eternity.’


End file.
